


The Taste Of Blood Is Bitter (Don't You Know Better?)

by Synnerxx



Series: Habits (Stay High) [10]
Category: Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: Barebacking, Choices, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnerxx/pseuds/Synnerxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've made their choices and now they have to live with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste Of Blood Is Bitter (Don't You Know Better?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleep_and_feel_no_pain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_and_feel_no_pain/gifts).



> nearly a year later and this series is finished. kinda weird.
> 
> for raven as usual - thank you for your patience and encouragement and for being awesome in general. hope this lives up to the others.

This is how it ends - not with a whimper, but with a bang. 

They're a perfect Molotov cocktail, always on the verge of blowing up, two seconds away from disaster. 

He doesn't remember who starts this fight, will blame James with every breath he takes because that's what he does, all he can do because accepting blame means admitting he was wrong and he's not about to do that. Not with James Hetfield. 

The fight is one of the worst ones yet. Punches are thrown, blood dripping and skin splitting. Words are weapons as they always have been. Sharpened and held at the ready, designed to hit their intended target without error or miscalculation. 

When they’re left standing in the wreckage, battle weary and wounded, there’s nothing left to say. The damage has been done and there’s nothing left to do but pick up the pieces and bring them back home for other people to put back together as best they can. 

Dave retreats to David. He feels almost guilty for bringing his mess into David’s life, knows that David would be so much better off without him, but he doesn’t know what else to do. There’s something to be said for habits after all. 

David cleans up the blood and bruises, bandages Dave as best he can, looking worried, but saying nothing. There’s nothing to be said to Dave about James anyway. 

Dave lets David pick up the pieces and offers no explanations for what happened and David doesn’t ask. He never asks anymore. Dave never tells him. 

When Dave kisses him, it tastes like blood and finality. He’s made his decision, but David knows better. He knows that Dave will never truly be over James. He doesn’t push though. He will take what Dave gives him and he will live with that. That’s all he knows how to do. 

Dave leads David into the bedroom and pushes him down onto the bed, trying to soften his touches, but there’s still a roughness left over from James and his anger in his hands as he strips them both, tossing the clothes over the side of the bed. 

He slides his mouth over David’s jawline, more teeth than lips, moving down to his neck and biting down on his pulse point, sucking a dark bruise there. He listens to David’s noises of pleasure, letting them fuel the flames of lust burning inside of him. He drags his teeth over David’s collarbone, nipping sharply at the bone, making him gasp. Dave latches onto a nipple and worries it into a hardened nub with teeth and tongue before switching and giving the other one the same treatment. 

David arches beneath him, fingers tangling in those thick golden-red curls, helpless moans spilling from his parted lips. Dave pushes his thighs apart and sucks three fingers into his mouth, wetting them down, and then pressing them into David none too gently. David inhales sharply, the burn of the stretch uncomfortable before he adjusts, letting Dave work him open for his cock. 

Dave spreads his fingers out inside of him and tries to be a little gentler with him, but he can’t quite manage it yet. He pulls his fingers out of David, spitting into his hand and slicks his cock up. He pushes David’s legs up and back and thrusts inside of him with a groan of pleasure. David bites down on his bottom lip, pleasure blurring with pain, the way it always does with Dave, hips jerking up into him a little. 

Dave stills, cock throbbing deep inside of David. He pants, head tilted down, the ends of his curls brushing against David’s sweat dampened skin, and then starts to move. He drives himself into David, hips snapping against him as he powers forward, hair swaying with the motion of his body. David clings to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, hardly aware of the noises slipping from his mouth or the tears seeping through his lashes at the intensity of their joining. 

Dave reaches down and wraps his hand around David’s cock, slowing his pace and making an effort to soften his thrusts, still hitting David’s sweet spot with every movement. He twists his wrist on the upstroke, thumb brushing over the head and slicking the wetness down the shaft of David’s cock. It doesn’t take much before David is coming over Dave’s fingers with a harsh, choked cry of his name, muscles squeezing his cock rhythmically. 

Dave gives a few more thrusts into him before burying himself deep inside and comes with a muffled noise of pleasure. David whimpers softly as Dave’s cock throbs inside of him, feeling the rush of wet heat inside of him, making the end of his orgasm even better. He sinks back into the bed, panting softly, letting go of Dave. 

Dave holds himself up over David for a long moment, eyes closed, breathing slowly evening out. He slips out of him and reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing tissues and cleans them both, his touch considerably more tender than before. 

Dave is aware of David’s eyes on him, can feel the weight of his silence between them. He wants answers, wants to ask questions, but Dave doesn’t know how to articulate the feelings inside of him. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t even really want them there. He wishes he could purge his emotions, but there’s not enough alcohol and drugs in the world to cover them up and make him forget them completely. 

Some part of him is thankful that David keeps silent, doesn’t ask the questions that are surely on the tip of his tongue. He lays down beside David and pulls him closer, sensing his confusion, but still offering no explanation. How can he explain what he doesn’t understand?

He and James don’t work and they never will work. They’re way too toxic for each other, he can see that. He’s not blind. He just wants what he wants and who he wants when he wants. He has a hard time letting go of people, torn between holding them at arm's length and holding them so tightly, he smothers them. It’s a constant push and pull that’s exhausting, he knows, but he doesn’t know how to be any other way.

Eventually, not even David can hold his tongue anymore. 

“So...what does this mean?” David’s voice is small and soft in the quiet of the room.

Dave tenses and says nothing for a long moment. 

David frowns a little. “Dave?”

“It means…...it means I choose you.” Dave says finally. 

David chews his lip. “And that means?”

“Just what I said.” Dave mutters gruffly. 

David sighs and falls silent. He knows his place. Even if Dave “chooses” him, there’s still a persistent voice in the back of his mind that whispers cruelly that Dave will never love him quite as much as he loves Dave. 

David curls up to Dave’s side and closes his eyes, knowing that he’ll take whatever Dave dishes out and lets himself drift off to sleep, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

Dave stares up at the ceiling, sleep evading him. There’s so much left unsaid between him and David, him and James. The weight of unspoken slights and hurts dragging them all down. None of them are innocent in this - save perhaps David whose only sin is falling in love with him - but Dave is the guiltiest of them all. 

He’s done wrong by James and certainly done wrong by David. He hangs on to the past and the pain associated with it to ever truly have something substantial with James. He takes out his misery and heartache on David, knowing the other man will just bear it in silence, picking up his broken pieces and putting them back together as best he can. David deserves better, Dave knows, but he doesn’t want to find out what would become of him without David.

He turns his head and looks at David, at the troubled expression on his face, and feels guilt clutch at his heart. He knows he put that look there. He knows that look will always be there on David’s face when it comes to him. He’s just not good at taking care of David, at being what David wants him to be, giving him what he needs. He’s never been good at being anything other than selfish. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t love David. He does, very much so. But it’s in his own selfish way and that’s not the kind of love David deserves. He knows this. Hell, David probably even knows this too. He just can’t bring himself to let go. David won’t let go of him either and so this is the dance they are doomed to follow for the rest of their lives, it seems. 

He strokes a hand through David’s hair and watches the frown ease from his face as David relaxes more against him, soothed by his touch. Dave feels his heart ache in his chest and can’t pinpoint exactly why. 

He knows that at some point he and James will fall back into old patterns. It could be days or weeks or months or even years, but that’s their dance and they’re just as doomed to follow it as him and David are to follow theirs. 

No matter how much he loves them - and he does, he really does - it still feels like there’s something missing, something deep inside, but he ignores it, buries the feeling as best he can under what he feels for David and even what he feels for James. He doesn’t like the feeling, doesn’t understand what could be missing. So he does what he does best and doesn’t look at it too closely, choosing to focus on distractions instead. 

He brushes his fingers across David’s cheekbone softly, watching him sleep. David is his and he always will be in some form or fashion. He doesn’t know how to be anything else. They both know this and that truth sits heavily in the air between them as David leans into his touch and sighs. 

He’s made his choice, even when there’s a point in time that he and James will fall back into old, familiar habits. He’s picked David because who else is there for him? Who else will love him with the same unwavering loyalty no matter what he does? Who else will put his wants and needs above their own every single time? David is nothing if not selfless, even when he should be selfish. He deserves better. Instead what he gets is Dave. 

Dave watches the slow and steady rise and fall of David’s chest. He wonders why David loves him so much, wonders why he would give him anything he asks for, even at the risk of his own unhappiness. Even when he knows that Dave isn’t capable of being who he needs him to be. 

It makes him ache a little, makes him want to try to be who David needs and wants and deserves, but he knows it’ll never be enough, that he’ll never be enough. He’ll never be good enough for someone like David. He’ll never deserve someone like David. People like him just aren’t meant to have people like David. 

This is how he pays for it. Seeing the unhappiness in David’s eyes with every “I love you” that’s greeted with a nod and a “me too”, seeing the pain in his eyes as he cleans up yet another one of Dave’s messes, feeling like that’s all he’s good for. 

Dave hates himself for putting that look in David’s eyes. He doesn’t know how to take it away though. So he finds a way to live with it, finds a way to ignore it, pretend he doesn’t see it. 

He’s made his choice and David’s made his and they have to live with it now. They won’t change. They never do. They don’t know how to be anything else. 

David will always love him too much. Dave will always love him not enough. 

It’s the way things are and the way things always will be, regardless of any choice that’s made.

There’s something to be said about habits, after all.


End file.
